The background: Darryl Reid is only 22 but he's old enough to have undergone two fairly dramatic musical transformations. He was in a band called These Furrows, who were – as far as we can tell – sombre exponents of post-Radiohead indie atmospherica with piano and strings, with the multi-talented Reid responsible for drums and guitar duties. Then he embraced bass music as Boy Kid Cloud and became an exponent of extreme electronica, but now he has found a way to combine mayhem with melody, to the extent that he is currently being described by his label as Boy Kid Cloud 2.0.

He's actually a Prince fan from Leicester, who these days is making dubstep pop heavy enough on the synth judders to merit the attention and support of Benga and Skream, but light enough to appeal to passing fans of left-leaning electropop. It's a little bit Madeon, a little bit Mohawke, but also a little bit Hot Chip and Metronomy, with the commercial veneer of synth music from the days of shoulder pads and asymmetrical haircuts, all topped off with fey-boy vocals high enough to make Green Gartside sound like Garth Brooks.

The tracks on his forthcoming EP A Better Version of Me from the Start are bubbly and bright, like soul and jazz-funk from the 80s given some glitches and clicks to remind us all it's 2012. Throughout, the music fizzes as Reid gives it loads of forlorn – he says he doesn't want to say what the songs are about, but we're guessing getting dumped is higher on his lyrical agenda than musing on ill manors. There's a song called 89 whose title may or may not be a nod to his favourite year in pop, but it sounds like Cameo minus the codpiece so should by rights be called 84. Before it gets too retro, it ends with a wub apocalypse. Last track Gone is a "ballad" with surface fuzz, like an end of the evening slow song for a school dance where the teacher on the decks has been replaced by Rustie. Reid's voice veers from Midlands burr to anguished falsetto as he wails about his dear departed. She's not dead, she just doesn't fancy you any more, Daz. Move on, man.